


War's End

by Plodder



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywaker-mentioned, Past Relationship(s), mention of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-19 23:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11323740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plodder/pseuds/Plodder
Summary: Obi-Wan is burnt out on war and hurting.  Quinlan helps.





	War's End

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt, and I'm certainly no expert.  
> Also, this is AU. I haven't read all of Dark Disciple, so it likely never existed in the setting of this fic.  
> Takes place towards the end of the Clone Wars.

Obi-Wan only wanted the war to end. Burnt out from the rather Sisyphean battles, he began to think that he no longer cared about the outcome. He felt like an overwhelmed healer wishing some of their terribly ill patients would die, just to end the suffering. Whose suffering would end, he wondered, the republic's or his own?

The republic was certainly ill, certainly suffering, though hopefully not terminal. This line of thinking was all rather self-indulgent, and he didn’t have the energy to complete it or let it go into the force. All he knew was that he was glad to be home for a while. The council would hopefully let him be for a few hours or days without imploding. He didn’t truly mind their neediness though; he knew if he were left to his own devices for too long, he’d be full of irritable restlessness. 

Entering his quarters with an ungainly stagger, he sat his creaky body down on his couch. Rough ends of broken ribs crunched together, his back sang in a high pitch, hot with pain. He wasn’t sure how long he sat like this, not really meditating, not sleeping, and unable to get up. Minutes ticked by, turning to hours. Motivation to get up, shower, eat, change, or even get into his bed was sorely lacking. Perhaps he would com Anakin… no let him have his time away.

Pull it together; try to get up, he thought to himself. It was easier to say than to do.

The door buzzed. Obi-Wan should have been annoyed by the break in his solitude, but at least it gave him the motivation to do something other than stare. A familiar presence was outside, perhaps not the one he was hoping for, but maybe one that was needed. His heart swelled with an annoyed fondness. 

He released the door. Quinlan Vos entered, swaggering, carrying a bottle of brandy, and oddly enough, a muja fruit. He set them down on the table and sat in one of the chairs.

“Kenobi, I’ve missed you, you foolish old man. I haven’t seen you for weeks.” 

“Has it been that long? I haven’t noticed. You, however, seem to count the days.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Quinlan replied. He looked thoughtful.

“Anyway, I know I’ve said it before, but you really look terrible. “

He received an aggressive eye roll as a response. It would have been funny except for the fact that it looked painful. 

Quinlan peered at his friend, took in the large bruise on the left side of his face, slightly swollen, the too-long, dusty hair, little hollows under his cheeks, and stained, scorched robes. It was unusual to see Obi-Wan so disheveled. It worried him. 

 

Obi-wan noted his regard.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you with my untidy appearance and lack of social graces, Quinlan. You could just leave the liquor and go. “

“Nah, I’m bored and you’re the only one of any value around. You’re stuck with me for a while.” 

Quinlan’s grin turned to a frown. He could feel his friends discomfort through the room. Kenobi held himself impossibly still, like the act of breathing was painful. He noted blood soaking through the left arm of his robe. Quinlan knew that Obi-Wan would never admit that he needed any help without aggressive prompting. Even that would result in verbal sparring, so he decided a more physical approach was best. 

Quinlan walked over to the couch and hefted him up by the armpits. He was met with an undignified grunt. Worryingly enough, Obi-Wan didn’t put up much resistance. Quinlan bodily walked him towards his bedroom and the ‘fresher. He heard something that sounded like an undistinguishable mix of moaning and profanity. 

Obi-Wan gasped once he was finally able to make words. 

“What, in all the little stars, are you doing?”

“You’re a mess. You need to clean up and put on something more comfortable. Normally I’d make a pass at this point, but you’re far too pitiful.”

“All right crèche master. So I’m too pitiful even for the likes of you? Will wonders ever cease?”

“Just start stripping” Quinlan replied.

Obi-Wan struggled to raise his abused shoulders over his head. Quinlan tried to help, but it was like disrobing a squirmy crechling. Quinlan, normally rather skilled in the act of undressing, struggled.

“We’ll just cut them off,” He decided. 

“I’m going to need to drink and a fancy dinner before we do that.” 

Quinlan ignored this and managed to remove some of the layers and cut the rest with the rather handy knife in his boot. He took off his own upper layers and turned on the shower. His own disrobing resulted in an eyebrow raise.

“I though I was too pitiful for that kind of behavior?” 

“Still true. You’re going to fall over without me holding you up.” 

He took a long look at his friend. Quinlan noted extensive bruising and shallow lacerations over his torso and a deeper, dripping laceration to his left forearm. His eyes wander over the prominent arcs of his rib cage, delicate bumps of the spine.

“No matter how long you stare, I’m not in the mood, Quinlan.”

“You never are anymore. You weren’t this scrawny the last time I saw you.”

“Its been a hard few months” Not to mention the never ending missions and tasks. The stims probably didn’t help. Anakin had been more frantic lately in his feeding attempts. 

Quinlan manhandled him into the shower and tried to ignore the hiss as the water hit the numerous wounds. After he was clean, Quinlan gently dressed the lacerations and maneuvered him into soft sleeping clothes. He rifled through the cabinet and found some medications for pain. He filled the cup by the sink with water and made Obi-Wan take them. Now, how to get Kenobi back to the living area...

“I’d pick you up, but I think you’d punch me.”

“You would be correct. I’m not some virgin at her wedding”, was the retort.

Quinlan guided him back to the couch. 

“You’re eating and then you’re going to sleep. No other options.” 

“I love it when you’re forceful, Quin. Tell me more.” Obi-Wan lets out an exasperated sigh tempered by nostalgia. 

“Where is your ex-padawan? He should be taking care of you. The two of you are fucking. You’re his responsibility. Usually he’s hovering around you like an overgrown, clingy mynock." 

“Admit it Quinlan, you’re glad to have me all to yourself.”

“Well, you were my first”, Quinlan mused.

Obi-Wan thinks back to their awkward, fumbling attempts when they were 15 and then tried to banish that thought. Quinlan made a face like he was thinking of the time Qui-gon walked in on them in the ‘fresher. It had taken Obi-Wan days to recover enough to be able to look at his master without blushing. Time to use some distraction techniques…

“Anakin is with his wife.” 

His typical restraint is gone, worn away by mind-numbing fatigue. He felt the need to confess, and Quinlan is a good enough confessor. He is boisterous and irreverent, but loyal to a fault. 

Wife? This peaked his interest. 

“Yes, wife. “ 

“Wasn’t expecting that one. That boy loves you so much I’m afraid he’s going to lock you in a cell and hide you from the world. How’d he come by a wife?” 

“It’s a long story, not really worth telling”, Obi-Wan replied. “They were young and impressionable. Anyway, she’s lovely and dear, a friend.” 

“Does she know about you? About the sex? About the attachment?”

“She knows. She accepts it, strangely enough. Anakin has too much love for just one person. It can be overwhelming. I think one person would fall to pieces or be crushed by the weight of it.” Obi-Wan looked down, impossibly sad. 

“You’re the least likely person I thought would be desperately attached and karking his former padawan, let alone a married former padawan. The council would birth loth cats if they knew.” 

“Quinlan. I…” Obi-Wan couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

He looked impossibly tired and was starting to sag, wilt, droop. He appeared unusually small and forlorn.

Quinlan boiled water and prepared some instant noodles, the only thing in the force-forsaken kitchen that was edible other than some stale tea. He steeped the tea as well and brought it all over on a tray. Thankfully, he added a small beaker of brandy and a muja fruit. 

“You’re too tired and mopey to talk about this anymore, but I’m not letting it go forever. You will eat and drink all of this. Then to bed.” 

“Again with the domination, Quin. It’s going to take more brandy than this to get me into bed with you.”

“No arguments or I’ll sit on you or sell you to a Hutt. I don’t think I get enough to be worth it, though.” 

Obi-Wan complied like a youngling and then passed Quinlan the empty tray. 

Obi-Wan gingerly stood, limped to the bedroom, and lumbered onto the bed. The sheets were cool and slightly scratchy, but that was home. Lying on his side, he closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing. His mind was still spinning, whirring away from any restful thoughts. 

The bed dipped beside him. 

Doing? He mumbled. 

“I’m staying with you. You need the company.” Obi-Wan surprisingly didn't fight him. 

Quinlan touched his shoulder and soothing heat seeped through him. For once in many months or even years, he was safe. His pain eased some. He felt a warm, solid body slip in behind him and he relaxed further. There was nothing sexual despite their banter, just comfort. He was inexpressibly grateful to Quinlan for understanding what he needed. Peace filled him. Everything was blessedly quiet and still. His anxieties slipped away, at least for now. Sleep found him. 

Obi-Wan woke in the morning to pale, Coruscanti sunlight through the blinds. He was alone, but the sense of peacefulness lingered. He would have to take care of himself, keep fighting, and carry on. The end, whatever it would be, was near.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone read this bit of self-indulgence, thanks!  
> Have a bunch of ideas, so wanted to give it a try.


End file.
